A House Divided
by Virginia Hensley
Summary: This is an AU Civil War Epic where Jane Rizzoli enlists in the Confederate Army in hopes of protecting her family. A modern remake of Gone With the Wind.
1. War Comes to Ithaca

Disclaimer: This is stolen intellectual property, of quite a few sources. Also, this story has carefully planned plot arcs and character arcs, so please don't cry yourself to sleep if you're not happy with the characters or plot as presented in the first chapters. Per usual, I will not read or allow negative Reviews to be posted here. If you must curse at me, please have the civility to send it in a PM so we may open a healing discourse about our differences.

HAPPY SHIPPING, EVERYFAN!

* * *

 **A House Divided**

 **RATED NC 17**

From the International Bible, the Gospel of Mathew 12:25:

 _Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, "Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand."_

* * *

One: War Comes to Ithaca

"Maura, you always were the loveliest woman in all of Atlanta," Josephine gushed, "We always knew you'd marry Emmet Stone one day. He is, after all, the handsomest and richest Irishman in Georgia. Tell us again, where his regiment is fighting."

Although Maura anticipated the inquiry, because she'd started the conversation herself, she seemed to grimace at the recital she had given so many times. Her self enthralled gaze wandered to the servant who was busily screening the new gazebo her father had added to their immaculate lawn so that Maura's many socialite friends would have a comfortable place to take tea and cluck about the war.

"Emmet's brigade has joined General Robert E. Lee in the Army of Virginia. He's received so many decorations I can hardly remember his rank anymore," she began, then hesitated at the gentle hammering of the servant as she nailed the screen against the little pylons of the gazebo, "In a way I sort of like the war, really, because Emmet was never so attractive to me as now. I feel so," she cut her eyes at the servant's hammering, "in love."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Josephine's twin sister Amy cooed dreamily. "I hope I marry a soldier. Does he write you often?"

"Oh, daily!" Maura beamed. "And his letters are so long and loving I almost tire of them."

"Tire of them?" Josephine asked curiously.

But Maura's attention had turned fully to the servant whose every movement seemed to irritate her. She spoke with a harsh tone to the tan young woman, "Jane, I clearly have company. Stop that ruckus while I am entertaining."

"Your father said to finish it today and I promised Ma I'd be home for dinner."

Maura smiled tightly. "Servant, I have given you a command. Now, cease that damned hammering."

The beautiful Cherokee woman turned to face her, and they stared into each other's eyes with a burning, shared intensity.

Suddenly young Amy spoke and broke the tension, "Jane, I missed you at church last Sunday."

Jane glanced at her, "I haven't been at church in years, Miss Amy."

Amy smiled at her, "And I've missed you all the while."

Jane looked at Maura before returning Amy's smile. She removed her hat and pushed her long black hair out of her eyes, "Thank you, Miss Amy. Perhaps I'll visit you sometime, to assure you I haven't wandered from the Lord."

Amy blushed deeply, "I'd like that. I'll pray for you in the meantime."

Maura's face was three shades redder when she interrupted, "Jane can't be saved from damnation, Amy, don't waste your time."

Jane laughed and bowed with her hat pressed to her flat stomach. "I'm sorry I interrupted your tea time, ladies. I'll give you some peace and finish this later."

She retreated and Maura called after her, "I'm telling father you didn't finish today!"

Amy and Josephine stared at her and she finally remarked, "She really shouldn't be so salty. I only asked her to stop for a moment."

"Are slaves allowed to disobey commands?" Josephine asked her eagerly. It was well known the Isles Plantation owned slaves.

Maura looked up sharply, "Jane isn't ... enslaved. Her mother is an employee of my family."

"But you have got slaves, haven't you, Maura?"

Maura tightened. "My father is a lawyer. We haven't needed laborers here on Ithaca since my grandfather passed. Father does own two ..." she hesitated before pronouncing the word, "slaves."

"Are they frightening?" Josephine asked excitedly.

Maura looked annoyed. "Of course not, Jo. My Lord."

"Where are they now? Working in the field?" Amy asked.

Maura looked across the long yard to the great Isles mansion. "They're inside helping father with his work."

Josephine gasped, "They can't ... read ... can they?"

Maura laughed. Indeed, she had taught every child on the plantation to read when she was only a child herself. "Why, no. Everyone knows that's illegal. Anyway. It's hot, and these mosquitos are eating me alive without a screen on this damned gazebo. I think it's time for me to retire to the house. Thank you so much for visiting, ladies."

The twins stood and took turns politely embracing her.

"We'll see you at church this Sunday, Maura."

"Naturally," Maura lied.

"We'll pray for Emmet's safety," Amy insisted.

"I thank you, ladies. My family thanks you. My brave, handsome husband is all I think about, night and day," but Maura's eyes had wandered to where Jane was slipping behind the big barn.

* * *

"What are you doing back here?" Maura asked abruptly as she rounded the corner of the barn.

Jane quickly tossed down the cigarette she was smoking. Then, seeing it was only Maura, picked up her cigarette and resumed smoking.

"What do you want now?"

"To discover why you're hiding. I almost thought you'd have Miss Amy back here with your filthy hands in her corset."

Jane stared at her before cracking a slight smile, "I'm a helpful person, Maura. I can't be blamed if the poor thing needs a hand getting out of her dress."

Maura rolled her eyes before reaching for Jane's cigarette.

Jane scowled at her. "I thought you quit."

Maura pouted with her little palm outstretched.

Jane rolled her eyes before handing over the cigarette.

Maura smoked it daintily before asking, "Father is going to your house this evening. Do you know why?"

Jane shook her head in the negative.

"He seemed ... so worried," Maura continued, "He's been anxious ever since the war started but yesterday something came in the mail which upset him. He left right away to talk to Angela. Did she say anything?"

Jane shook her head and reached for her cigarette. Maura drew on it again before returning it to Jane's hand.

"Your shirt is torn, Jane. Take it off and I'll mend it. You can pick it up tomorrow."

Jane shook her head again. "I don't mind it being torn."

Maura pouted. "Fine. I'm just trying to be nice."

"I think after all you've done to me, you'll have to try a little harder."

Maura frowned and sighed again. "I need a ride into the city this weekend. Father will be out of town, he promised you would drive me."

"Maura, have Darcy take you," she replied wearily.

"Darcy is going with Father," Maura snapped.

"Frankie can drive, I'll send him to take you," Jane tried.

"Please, I'd like to live to turn twenty, Jane," Maura drawled sarcastically, "Just pick me up Friday at noon. And wear something nice. I don't want to be seen in town with a filthy urchin."

Jane set her jaw, "Since when do you dictate my wardrobe?"

"Since you wore out all your nice clothes. You look positively mideval in your baggy britches and torn shirt. I don't know if you're working for me or begging me for alms."

"I work for your father," Jane corrected as she brushed by Maura and mounted her horse.

"Are you really going to tell Patrick I didn't finish your gazebo?"

Maura smiled deviously and nodded at her.

"Sometimes I can't believe that you're the sweet girl I grew up with," Jane told her dismally.

Maura's smiled melted off her face.

"I guess a lot has changed, Jane," Maura replied quietly.

Jane frowned and spurred her horse to depart.

"And yet ... not enough has changed," she returned sadly.

* * *

The Rizzoli children lived with their mother in the minor house on Ithaca. It was a nice house for quartering servants. It had been been Patrick's father Cillian's house before he remodeled it. When Cillian disappointed his own father Darcy Isles by becoming a Methodist Preacher, he insisted he need a simpler home in which to raise his family without decadence. So Cillian built the dreary little box of a house at the edge of Ithaca's sprawling fields. He hadn't been dead for longer than a few months when Patrick happily emptied it of its morbidly religious contents and turned it into a home for his newly employed house maid and her four young children.

Darcy Isles was a handsome Irish fellow who came laughing from his Motherland with fifteen indentured servants, in the gallant hopes of succeeding at being a Georgian cotton farmer. During Darcy's youth in Ireland he had become grimly acquainted with the atrocities of human bondage, and had therefor opted to bring along indentured servants instead of purchasing African slaves. Darcy understood the financial benefit of free labor but knew all too well the human cost. When his servants earned their freedom, some remained in his service as paid laborers and others left for new opportunities. It took ten years of incredibly difficult labor, but at last he cultivated his hard land into a thriving plantation with over a hundred honorably paid employees.

Darcy married late to a gorgeous young woman he met while visiting his family in Ireland. When Darcy's wife arrived from Ireland, she believed Darcy's plantation to be a sort of "island" because she confused the meaning of his name "Isles" to reference islands. Adoring her simple mistake, he called his plantation there after, Ithaca.

Darcy's wife had brought along from their Motherland something Darcy hadn't: Catholicism. Darcy had little inquiry into the matters involved with organized religion. He had seen human beings slaughtered wholesale and that experience alone informed his world view: live while you can, not while you can't. But Darcy allowed his wife's religious nature because he adored her. He didn't comprehend what a snake he had let into his garden until his son declared, at seventeen, he was giving his life to the Lord and becoming a Preacher. There was no profession which Darcy regarded with more distrust or less affection.

Darcy retreated more and more into his cotton fields, and rarely emerged except for the birth of Cillian's son Patrick. Darcy knew his own son had become a person he didn't know and didn't know how to love, so he welcomed young Patrick to become involved in his complicated work on the Plantation. Cillian was by then absorbed in the social life his role as a prominent figure in Atlanta's society allowed and he rarely considered his forgotten son. Patrick was a young man before he fully understood that Darcy was not his father.

When Patrick was old enough to realize his real father was a stranger to him, Cillian sent him North to attend school. He graduated from one private school to another, coming home only for Darcy's funeral, until he returned to Ithaca with a law degree and more than a little animosity toward his father.

Afterward Patrick tried to attend his father's church and to live in the manner Cillian dictated to him, he even married the Irish girl Cillian instructed him to marry, but he found that life was quite miserable in that posture. He realized Cillian was himself a miserable person who had suffocated his poor mother with incessant Bible beating. Finally Patrick retreated into Darcy's large beautiful mansion at the heart of the plantation and began a law firm from Darcy's old unused desk.

* * *

"I'm sorry I missed dinner, Ma. Maura was giving me hell."

"Jane, come to the hearth," Angela replied in a grim tone.

When Jane entered the room, she saw that both her younger brothers were sitting in the hearth at their mothers feet. They looked oddly childlike despite being teenagers. Patrick stood stoically beside her mother, his hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, Ma? Has something happened to Julian?"

The forth Rizzoli child and Jane's twin, Julian, had disappeared eight months previous. The Rizzoli's imagined he had ran away to join the Confederate Army, as many young men had. Although they doubted Julian's allegiance to the Confederate cause, they knew him to be an enterprising young man quite interested in earning a fortune for his poor mother.

"Actually, in a way, it's good news about Julian."

Jane's brothers looked up at her anxiously.

"Ma, what on earth is wrong?" Jane pled.

Angela started to speak but began to cry. Patrick squeezed her shoulder.

When Frankie saw that they were unable to continue he blurted, "We been conscripted, Janie. Tommy and me's going in the war."

Jane felt like a wrecking ball had slammed into her chest.

"And Jules?" she asked dumbly.

"We don't know, baby," Angela spoke to her softly, "He's been conscripted, too, so we know he didn't already join the war. He's alive and unlisted as far as the Confederate States of America are concerned."

Jane's eyed filled with tears, "They cain't force us to fight, Ma. We don't even support the Succession."

"Yeah, they can, Janie. Me and Tommy gotta turn ourselves in next week," Frankie informed her.

"No!" Jane shouted.

Patrick's eyes lined with tears. Angela rose to embrace her.

"Don't worry, darling. The war will be over soon. All they gonna get is a big check, a free vacation and some nice pants from the government."

"Yeah, Janie," Tommy piped up, "Killin' Yankees is good pay."

"Shut up, Tommy," Frankie said.

"Those Yankees are our countrymen, Jude Thomas," Patrick told him.

"Yessir," Tommy replied quietly.

Jane looked up at Patrick solemnly.

"I'm going too, then," she told them.

"No," Angela replied, still trying to collect Jane into a hug.

Jane gently pushed her mother away. "I'll just cut off my hair and say I'm Julian. I look just like him. Frankie, you're a good shot but Tommy cain't hit the side of a barn. Who the hell will look out for you?"

Patrick stared at her proudly.

"If I enlist as Julian, they'd think we were brothers and keep us together. Don't your conscription papers promise you'll stay together?"

Tommy nodded eagerly.

"Jane, I can't let you do that. It's dangerous enough to enlist in the war, but to pretend to be a man ... oh, Jane, you'd get in a lot of trouble if they found out," Angela tried to reason with her stubborn child.

"They won't. From what I hear, they don't even take your pulse. They just ask if you can shoot. Everybody in Atlanta knows Julian and I can shoot. We're some of the best shots in Georgia."

"Jane, stop now. Stop talking this way. I won't let you do this." Angela looked at Patrick helplessly, "Tell her, Patty. Tell her it's suicide."

Patrick looked at Angela sadly, "She's going if we allow her or not, Birdie. You know she's never let her little brothers out of her sight."

Angela began to cry and Jane hugged her.

"Don't worry, Ma. It's good news. Julian is fine, probably run off to be a vaudeville star. And me and the boys are gonna become great war heroes. You wait, Ma. We'll run the Yankees out of Virginia and come home with a fat load of cash for you. What will you do then, Ma? You'll be a rich lady."

Angela cried and kissed her daughter's head. "I'm already a rich lady, Janie. I'm rich to have such brave and honorable children."

Frankie and Tommy rose solemnly and closed their mother in a family embrace.

Patrick rubbed their heads and said, "I'm proud of you, children."

* * *

"Maura, for Christ's sake, how long can it take to get your purse?" Jane demanded angrily.

Maura rushed from the house with an enormous basket in her arms. She was laboring to carry it so Jane huffed and snatched it from her. She was surprised by how heavy it was.

"What the hell do you have in here? Buckles?"

Maura laughed. "Just my things. Put it in the wagon where it won't turn over."

Jane hefted it against her chest.

"I said be careful!" Maura sassed her.

Jane rolled her eyes and dropped it down carelessly in the wagon. Maura watched her carefully as she moved it against the wagon's bench and tied a rope around it.

"Is that good enough for your precious hats and purses?" Jane asked sarcastically.

Maura smiled. "I wanted it over there, actually."

Jane looked at her sharply and she giggled, "Just kidding."

They climbed on the bench together and Jane started them toward the heart of Atlanta. When Darcy purchased his land, Atlanta was merely a few houses around a sad city block. But the war had turned Atlanta into a hotbed of activity. The railroads converged in Atlanta so all sorts of wartime businesses had sprung up to maximize their profit.

"How long will it take?" Maura asked primly, glancing at the blue noonday sky.

"An hour, maybe a little longer since you tossed that anvil in the back."

Maura reached into one of her bags and pulled out a long metal contraption Jane had never seen.

"What the hell is that?" Jane asked, "You gonna spear me?"

Maura laughed, "It's called an umbrella."

"What is it for?"

"It's for keeping yourself cool in the sun and dry in the rain."

She popped it open and held it gracefully over her shoulder.

"You look ridiculous," Jane muttered.

"Jane, I have a light complexion. You know I burn in the sun. And I think later it may rain."

Jane rolled her eyes, "Maura that thing is metal. If it rains you're gonna get zapped by lightening."

Maura hadn't considered that. She pondered it momentarily before replying, "We'll see what tune you're singing when you're getting rained on and I'm sitting pretty and dry."

* * *

"Jane, here. The tailor," Maura pointed to the building she wanted Jane to park near.

"Alright. I'll be out here when you're finished," Jane told her. Being in the city made her uneasy and she glanced anxiously at all the sights that were strange to her.

"No, Jane," Maura pulled at her sleeve, "I need you to come inside."

"Nah, I don't want to," Jane shrugged her little hand away.

Maura grabbed her arm, "Jane, I am not asking. Park this wagon and come with me."

Jane sighed dramatically, "Can this day get any worse?"

Inside the shop, Maura approached the clerk happily and began, "Hello, sir," politely.

He bowed his head and waited.

"I need some small pants for Miss Rizzoli. She's gotten so skinny her old ones are falling off her boney bottom."

"Hey! I'm not skinny, and I don't," she smiled at the clerk, "Hello sir, fine to meet you"

He nodded at her and waited.

"I don't need any clothes. You are incorrigible, Maura."

Maura ignored her.

"And she needs some long sleeved shirts and underwear."

The clerk asked carefully, "Men's?"

Maura nodded with an easy smile. He glanced at Jane dispassionately and retreated into the back of his store.

"Maura, I will never forgive you for this! What right have you to meddle in my wardrobe?"

Maura came to her and wrapped her little hands around Jane's larger ones.

"Your birthday is tomorrow and Angela said you need clothes."

Jane lost all steam. She looked down into Maura's big emerald eyes.

"You ain't gotta worry about my birthday, Maura."

"And you ain't gotta tell me what to worry about, Jane."

Jane sighed but ceased arguing.

Maura grinned and called to the tailor, "I think she looks fine in blue!"

"Better make it grey," Jane mumbled.

"Grey? Oh, no, that's hideous. I can't let you wear gray."

* * *

When they were finished at the tailor, Maura made Jane accompany her to buy some wine and fruit.

"Really? This is what we had to drive all the way to Atlanta for? Wine and fruit?" Jane asked sarcastically as they were walking along the store fronts.

Maura eyed her. "Father said he already gave you his gift. Is that it in your pants?"

Jane blushed a little and nodded.

"Let me see it," Maura told her quietly.

Jane shook her head, "Not here," she whispered.

Maura giggled. "You've never been too shy to take one out before, Jane."

Jane hated that Maura had the power to make her blush.

She pulled Maura into a space between two buildings and lifted her shirt to reveal the gleaming silver pistol in her waistband.

Maura bit her lip and stared at it.

"I like it," she said dreamily.

Jane blushed a little more. "I told him he shouldn't have. It's too expensive. It must have cost him a ton."

Maura slowly reached out and gingerly closed her hand on the pistol. She carefully pulled it from Jane's pants. She held it reverently and turned it over to reveal the engraving on its handle.

"Darcy Avalon Isles," she read quietly.

"Who is that?" Jane asked.

"My great grandfather," Maura told her.

Jane's face fell. "He shouldn't have given me Darcy's gun. It's irreplaceable."

"Jane," Maura said as she returned the beloved gun to Jane's hand, "My father isn't a frivolous man. He gave it to you because it wants you to have it. I think he ... I think he sees you more as a son than even the boys."

Jane's eyes began to water and she pawed at her face with her dirty sleeves.

"Come on, let's go home," Maura said to her. She glanced at the sky. It was finally turning gray.

* * *

When it began to sprinkle rain, Maura reached stealthily for her umbrella. The rain picked up and she opened it dramatically and held it over her head with a wickid smile.

"I'm not acknowledging you," Jane said.

The rain picked up and Jane's hair and shirt began to get wet.

Maura scooted closer to her and held the umbrella over both of their heads.

"I'm not impressed, Maura. We're gonna get struck by lightning if you don't put that thing away."

Maura tried to loop her arm through Jane's but Jane pulled away from her.

"Unlike you, my face isn't painted on, so I don't have to worry about getting wet."

The rain increased terribly and Maura sat beneath her umbrella grinning.

Finally they approached Ithaca but they still remained miles from either house on the island.

"Jane, I'm getting pretty worried. Let's stop at the old barn and wait for the storm to blow over."

"No," Jane snapped, "It's just a heavy summer rain, we're not in danger."

"Jane, my fine clothes and new umbrella are getting ruined! I want to stop at the old barn. I'm ... I'm scared, Jane," she whined.

"You're not scared, you're vain," Jane snapped.

"Hey! Be nice," Maura scolded her, "And take me to that damned barn right this second." Jane stopped driving and turned to her. "There ain't nothing in that barn but a lot of hay. You're gonna be bored the second we get inside. I'm not troubling myself for your crazy whim, little girl."

Maura scowled at her. "I wasn't asking, was I? Take me to the barn before I drown out here!"

* * *

When Jane finally pulled the wagon through the old barn doors she had labored to open in the rain, she was cursing nonstop.

Maura climbed down happily and began peeling off her wet layers.

Jane was drying her horses and refusing to even look at Maura.

"I swear this is the last time I ever do a favor for you, Miss Isles. You're the most impudent little tart this side of the Mason Dixon."

"Jane?"

"I'm serious, you're the worst, Maura. I have things to do at home. I wanted to be with my family tonight. You know tomorrow is my birthday, why did you drag me in here?"

"Jane?"

"No, I'm mad at you," Jane said as she looked up.

Maura was standing in front of a candle light dinner.

Jane looked around dumbly. Maura had decorated the little area around the table.

"Help me get the basket? Your mother made your favorite dinner."

Jane stood with her mouth agape, staring at Maura.

Finally she asked,"Did you talk to Ma, Maura?"

Maura nodded in the affirmative. "I told her my plan for today."

"Who helped you get this furniture out here?"

"Tommy."

"Is that a phonograph? How did you get that out here?"

"Carefully."

Jane looked at her. "I'm ... I'm sorry I cursed at you."

Maura smiled, "That's totally understandable. I was ribbing you pretty hard."

Jane swallowed. "So we're gonna have dinner and music?"

"And ... wine and fruit," Maura added.

Jane blushed slightly. "Is that all?"

Maura's smile disappeared. She shook her head in the negative.

"What else?" Jane asked quietly.

Maura gathered her courage carefully before replying, "I brought a mattress and made a bed."

Jane's eyes grew large.

"In case we drink too much or in case the weather got bad. I knew it would rain, but I really was surprised how hard it's coming down. If we don't feel like going home, we can ... spend the night."

Jane's cheeks burned. She looked for a long time at the lovely little dinner Maura was arranging.

"What all did Ma tell you, Maura?"

Maura was busy fussing with their dinner and she replied over her shoulder, "She just said you needed warm clothes for your birthday. I asked her to make our dinner. But I made this beautiful cake."

"That's all? She didn't say anything about me and the boys?"

Maura looked back at her curiously. "No. Is something wrong?"

"No," Jane replied.

"Well," she rubbed her palms on her britches, "Let's have dinner then."

Maura smiled. She was so incredibly relieved Jane hadn't stormed out of the barn.

* * *

When they had finished dinner and most of the wine, Maura pulled a strawberry cake from the heavy basket Jane had jostled unforgivingly. It was only a little jilted. She had twenty two tiny candles in her palm. As Jane watched her carefully poking the candles in her cake she became overcome with emotion and tears started to stream down her face.

Maura turned to see her crying and came to rub her back, "What on earth is wrong, Janie? Don't tell me you hate strawberry cake? I did my best now, darling."

Jane choked back her emotion.

"What's wrong, Janie?"

Jane collected herself. "Nothing, doll. I'm just so ... I don't know, I'm impressed with how well you tricked me. I thought you were just being your usual selfish, annoying, demanding self today. I didn't expect this. Ma always makes a strawberry cake, but this is ... really nice, Maura. This is really special for me. I'm gonna remember this ... forever. I'll remember this when I'm feeling low and when I'm lonely."

Maura was grieved by her tone and she came to hold Jane's hands.

"You're not low or lonely now, Jane. I'm right here with you. Now blow out those candles before we're eating wax."

Jane sniffled and blew out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" Maura asked her.

Jane smirked, "You're not supposed to tell."

"You don't believe in magic, Jane. Now tell me," she said playfully.

"I wished," Jane started slowly, "for a swift end to the war. And," she drew a deep breath, "that I could hold you in my arms again."

Maura moaned in her throat and wrapped her arms around Jane's waist.

"I wished for that, too," she said against Jane's shoulder.

"I don't want to disrespect your marriage, Maura," Jane told her in a grievous tone.

"I don't either but ... let's not think about it tonight. Let's have this cake, finish the wine, and just be together tonight."

Jane kissed her and she ran her hands hungrily up and down Jane's long back.

"How long has it been?" Jane asked her when she pulled away.

Maura frowned. "You know how long. Since I was wed, over a year ago. Please don't talk about it, just take me to bed."

Jane had refused to ever go to bed with a married woman. She had refused to ever lay with Maura again after she announced her engagement. She had promised Maura that all her feelings for her had faded. Yet there never seemed to be a day when the idea of Maura's sweet face and voice and laugh didn't fill her mind. In truth she had only one regret if she were to die in the war: that she left things so broken between she and Maura.

Jane lifted Maura into her arms and carried her towards the empty room Maura indicated. She sat her down carefully on the mattress and left to retrieve the wine and snacks.

When she returned Maura was kneeling on their little pallet with her hands crossed over her naked breasts.

Jane froze when she saw her.

"What is it, Jane?"

"I forgot ... how beautiful you are."

Maura smiled at her sadly. "You're lucky. The image of your gorgeous body is forever burned in my heart."

Jane frowned.

"Stop worrying, Jane. And come to bed. I miss you so much."

Jane shimmied from her old trousers and shirt.

"Maura?" she asked as she gingerly crawled astride her lover.

"Mmmm?" Maura stared up at her reverently.

"I'm not mad at you for marrying Emmet. I love you more than I ever thought possible. You're ... you're ..."

"Jane," Maura looped her arms around Jane's neck, "You don't have to tell me, baby, I already know."

"No, I do have to tell you. I need to say this. You're ... you're everything I care about in the world. Nothing will ever, ever change that."

Maura's eyes filled with tears. "That's very sweet, my love. I'm so sorry ... I'm so sorry it couldn't have been you. I never wanted to put you in this position, sleeping with a married woman. I know you hate my marriage but I-"

"No, it's okay. It's all okay. Tonight everything is beautiful."

Jane kissed her, and she carefully breathed her painful tears away. "Happy birthday, Jane. I'm so glad I could do something special for you."

"You can't know how much I needed this," Jane told her as she pulled the skin of her neck gently into her mouth.

Maura gasped and grasped her shoulders.

"Me too," she replied as she wrapped her short legs around Jane's waist.

* * *

"Janie?" Maura yawned.

"I'm here. I'm just packing the wagon."

Maura frowned. "Don't tell me you're ready to leave already."

"Won't everyone be looking for us?"

"I don't think so. Father is out of town and I told Angela we were spending the night here."

"You told her that?"

Maura shrugged. "She knows I love you."

Jane bit her lip. She came to sit on the edge of the mattress.

Maura sat up and wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders.

"I'm glad you're wearing the clothes I bought you, but I'm not glad you're dressed. Why don't you do a little fashion show for me? Show me how your new underwear look."

Jane blushed a little but pulled the waist of her trousers down to reveal the mens underwear beneath.

Maura moaned. "Come closer, my dear."

"But you've got such sharp, glimmering teeth ..."

"Mmmm," Maura smiled as she slid her hands beneath Jane's crisp new shirt, "The better to suck you with, my love."

Jane sighed loudly as Maura's hands removed her new silver pistol and tossed it in the hay.

"Nothing will protect you from me now," she whispered into Jane's ear as she sucked the tender lobe into her mouth.

Jane rolled her head back at the pleasure as Maura's hands climbed up her ribcage and over her breasts.

"You're mine forever," she whispered as she pulled Jane back into the bed with her.

* * *

"Maura?" Jane asked as Maura was fastening the last of the hundreds of tiny buckles her outfit consisted of. Jane thought to herself how she adored the sight of Maura meticulously dressing herself.

"I've got to tell you something."

Maura glanced at her, "Don't tell me you didn't wear protection."

Jane tried to smile but couldn't. Maura was fastening her bracelets and she walked to Jane and handed Jane her necklace before turning around and instructing Jane to clasp it on her.

Jane stood awkwardly fumbling with the tiny fasten on the chain and tried to explain, "Patrick said he would tell you ... after it was done. We didn't know how upset you would get."

Maura turned her head back sharply, "What?"

Jane continued to claw at the tiny chain helplessly.

"We ... well, the boys and me ... we're going to the war."

"What are you saying, Jane? The war isn't a place you can visit, you've got to enlist to fight in the war."

"I ... I know, baby. Frankie, Tommy and Julian were all conscripted last week. That's why Patty has been anxious." She finally handed the necklace back to Maura, defeated.

"Why ... why on earth do you think you're going to the war?" Maura asked, turning to face her.

"Well, I'm gonna ..." she found Maura's imploring gaze impossible to meet so she stared at her boots, "I'm gonna cut my hair and enlist as Julian."

Maura stared at her, like she had spoken in a foreign language. "That's ... that's absurd."

"I agree, but it's what I'm going to do. We've already confirmed it with the State. We're all going into Atlanta to board a train to Virginia."

"When?" Maura asked through her constricted chest.

"Tomorrow," Jane whispered.

Maura slapped Jane's cheek abruptly and her little palm left a pink strike mark on Jane's face.

Jane sighed, "Baby-" she started as she opened her arms.

"No, Jane Rizzoli, you keep your hands off me!" Maura put her elbows against Jane's chest and lamely tossed her fists at Jane's neck and shoulders until Jane grabbed her wrists and turned her around so she could hold her.

"I'm sorry, Maura. I should have told you last night."

"You absolutely should have. I can't believe you ... you made me think ... I thought we were going to be okay."

"We are, Maura. I'm sure Emmet has single handedly won the war and the boys and I will come home next week."

Maura struggled and Jane held her. Then she went limp in Jane's arms and began to sob.

"Janie, don't do this. Please don't do this. They can't make you go, you're a woman. Don't you know what they'll do to you if they discover you? You could be brutalized or killed. At the very least some awful Yank will shoot your heart out. Please don't go! Please don't leave me!"

Jane rocked her and cooed to her. "I'm sorry, Maura. It's going to be okay. It's okay, my love, you'll see. Everything will be okay. No silly war is gonna knock me down. I'm Jane Rizzoli, ain't I? Baby, calm down and breathe."

Maura stubbornly sobbed a bit longer before quieting herself. She laid her head limply against Jane's chest.

"What will you do, just dress like a man?"

"I already dress like a man."

"Is that why your Ma said you needed clothes?"

"I reckon so."

"Is that why you were so sad last night?"

"Of course. I didn't want to hurt you, Maura, but ... I mean, I'm coming home from the war, but there will be times ... times when I'm sad and I want to run away. And I'll have to stay strong and hold the line. For my brothers and for my mother. And I'll be weak, Maura, and I'll pray for strength. And that's when I'll think of you. I'll think of last night. And I won't ever have to worry I might give up. I will never give up as long as I can come home to you."

"Oh, my love," Maura said as she lifted her teary face to kiss her.

They fell silent.

Jane resumed packing their wagon and Maura finished dressing herself.

"The wagon is ready," Jane told her.

"Jane, take me to your house. I want to be the one who cuts your hair."

Jane looked up at her. "You'd do that?"

Maura nodded. "You've always been so awful with a pair of scissors."

Jane smiled at her. "Alright."

* * *

The Rizzoli family gathered around the hearth and Angela brought a chair for Jane to sit in. Maura wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Frankie and Tommy sat on the hearth and laid their heads solemnly on their crossed arms. Patrick arrived in his wagon just in time. When he walked inside, two African teenagers accompanied him. Angela spoke warmly to them, "You're just in time. Darcy, Fiona, come sit with the boys."

The teenagers said hello to Jane quietly and sat with the boys. Patrick stood stoically behind Angela and whispered to her, "It's all right, Birdie."

Slowly Maura began to cut her long black hair. The children cried and wiped their eyes, Angela wept and Patty clasped her hand. Tears streamed down Maura's face but her steady hand never wavered. When at last all of Jane's beautiful hair lay on the floor, she stood and went to the mirror.

Her family watched silently as she appraised her cropped head.

"I'm the spitting image of Julian," she said.

She looked at them sadly, then took immense heart, and stood proudly at salute for them. Her brothers rose hastily and saluted her in return.

"For Dixie," she said sadly.

"For Dixie," they echoed.

"For Ithaca," she continued as she looked at Maura.

"For Ithaca!"


	2. I Know Why The Caged Birdie Sings

Part Two: I Know Why the Caged Birdie Sings

 _The caged bird sings_

 _with a fearful trill_

 _of things unknown_

 _but longed for still_

 _and his tune is heard_

 _on the distant hill_

 _for the caged bird_

 _sings of freedom_

It was well after midnight when she heard the cotton field rustling. She nervously went to the crib where her infant son lay sleeping and tucked his blanket under his tiny foot. Her little shack consisted only of the crib, a bed and a stovepipe. Upon the bed two little identical children lay sleeping. She pressed her fingertips to her bruised eye, hoping it had healed some since she was struck unconscious the day previous.

She heard a bird song in the field, and she went to the door of her shack and waited.

He skulked from the high cotton with his hat pulled low over his face. Though it was the middle of the scorching Delta summer, he wore a gentleman's coat pulled so tightly around his gaunt frame she could immediately discern the shape of the pistol holster around his shoulder.

He smiled when he saw her little silhouette in the darkened door.

She frowned because she knew he would soon erupt into anger.

He walked past her into the shack without preamble. She knew why he was there.

When he turned back and saw that her eye was once again blackened, his pupils widened with rage and he reached into his jacket. His large hand closed on the handle of his gun and he said in a furious but hushed tone, "I promised that man I would kill him if he hurt you again."

She put her small hands on his arm and tried to pull it from his gun.

"He didn't. I had an accident. I fell," she tried.

He looked at her as if it was her he was angry at so she ceased lying to him.

"Is this why you sent for me?"

"No," she said sadly. "I have to tell you something."

His icy blue eyes softened on her chocolate ones. He realized then that her spirit was broken and he asked her, "What's wrong?"

She glanced at her sleeping children.

"June is dead."

"What? When? What happened?"

She made the expression he had come to know meant she was going to lie.

"I don't know. I just found her ... lifeless ... yesterday morning."

He clasped her hands tightly. "Birdie, I am so sorry."

Her eyes lined with tears and she tried to breathe them away.

"It hurts. It really does. But right now I'm worried about her babies. He sent them to the slave quarters, but he says he'll sell them at Auction next week. Can he do that? Can he sell them? Are they slaves?"

With all his might he wished he was allowed to embrace her or to kiss her. His heart was broken for her.

"Is their father an African slave?"

She nodded.

"And your sister is," he hesitated, "was a Cherokee indentured servant."

She nodded again.

"They should have been born Free, but without papers it's just speculation. Do they have certificates of birth?"

"No," she told him. "I delivered them here."

"How old are they?"

"The baby is seven months and River is three years."

"I think he will successfully sell them," he said hesitantly and her eyes filled with terror.

"But wait, Birdie, wait. Will he sell them here in town?"

She thought. "I think so. He doesn't want to be troubled with them. He just wants them gone."

He rubbed his pale, whiskered face for a moment then said, "I'll send one of my associates to Auction with a large sum. I'll buy them."

"Patty, I can't ask you to do that. I know how Darcy felt about slaves on Ithaca. I know you don't want to own anyone."

"I don't," he said to her in earnest. "But listen to me, Birdie. I think I may be able to legalize them. If I can produce certificates of their birth, perhaps I can raise them as free children. I'd have to send them North eventually, to be educated. But if I do nothing, they'll be sold and we will surely never find them again."

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "I can't ask you to do that. You've done so much for me already."

"My decision is made. I'm going to send someone to get them. I can't stand the idea of your niece and nephew being cast into bondage. My wife and I will raise them on Ithaca. Birdie, I am so sorry about your sister. That is why I have tried everything in my power to take you from that evil man. He is a devil."

"I know," she confirmed quietly. "Patty?"

"Yes, my dear?" He wanted so badly to be allowed to kiss her.

"I'm ... I'm pregnant again."

His hand shot to his pistol and she gripped his coat.

"No, Patty. Stop!"

His eyes turned red and filled with tears.

She clasped his arm and begged him to release the gun.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," he said in agony.

"Shhh," she told him but it was too late.

"Mommy?" the little girl asked. She was sitting up in bed.

Patty stilled and she looked at her child. "Go back to sleep, Janie."

She noticed him and smiled. "Hey, Patty," she said sweetly.

It was only then that his grip on the pistol loosened and she pulled his hand away from it.

"Hey, Janie. Mind your Mama, now, and go to sleep."

She laid back down obediently but watched them.

He felt so much sadness he was barely able to look into her eyes when he said, "One day, Birdie, I'm coming for you and these kids. And I'm taking you back to Ithaca. And I don't give a damn if I have to kill Brutus Rizzoli to get you. I don't give a damn if I have to sue the State of Georgia for your Freedom. I don't care at all if my wife divorces me. I won't stop even if God Himself manifests and attempts to wrest the beating heart from my chest. I promise you, my love, one day I will free you and bring you home."

Her smile felt strange on her face, as if she hadn't smiled in so long she felt silly for it, as if smiling were a sin, as if she was afraid someone would come and take it from her.

"I know you will, Patrick. All we gotta do is hang on."

* * *

It was before sunrise when Maura rapped on the kitchen door of the Rizzoli home. Angela was inside cooking breakfast, she opened the door for her with a smile. Maura was surprised to see her father sitting at the table. He kissed her cheek gently and said, "She's still upstairs. We'll call when breakfast is ready."

Maura stopped in the door of the bedroom that had belonged to Jane and Julian since they came to Ithaca when they were seven and quietly sat down the basket she was carrying. Jane lay in shadows so the sight of her cropped head didn't punish Maura's eyes. Maura didn't know how long she stood looking at Jane, she only knew that she had never metabolized how in love with Jane she was until that moment. She realized then that seeing Jane safe in her bed brought her more solace than any other experience ever had, and that while she had made her decision to marry Emmet Stone for numerous reasons, she knew then they were all very trivial in the face of what she felt for Jane, and had somehow always felt for Jane.

"You perving out on me, Isles?" Jane asked as she cheekily opened her eyes.

Maura giggled like a girl in her girlfriends bedroom.

Jane held the blankets open to her with an expression that was very familiar to her.

Maura removed her cape and apron and crawled under Jane's light summer quilt.

They took the time for an intimate kiss.

"I lost my virginity in this bed," Maura said with a smile.

"To who?" Jane asked, and Maura giggled again.

They felt like girls, whispering in bed while everyone was sleeping.

"What's in the basket?" Jane asked her.

"Oh, it's your disguise," Maura told her carefully.

"What, like glasses and a mustache?" Jane joked. "I hear fancy whiskers are all the rage in Virginian high society."

"Well, you do have that one chin hair that keeps growing back," Maura remarked.

"Hey," Jane playfully popped her bottom. "You know that's a secret."

* * *

Jane held her arms above her head and watched in the long mirror as Maura wound the caramel colored fabric around her chest.

"Is that too tight?"

Jane shook her head so she continued until Jane's breasts were bound.

Maura pulled a little white shirt from her basket.

"I made you ten of these. They're just some of Darcy's little shirts I cut the sleeves out of. I've sewn them at the arms to make you look more flat chested and to hide your binding. I also lined them so you can bathe in them. You'll never be able to go shirtless, but this may get you past a regular health inspection or a swim in the river."

Jane was impressed and she asked, "Did you stay up all night doing this?"

Maura made the expression Jane had come to know meant she was going to lie.

"Not all night. Also I made this," she opened a small wooden box and inside were numerous little cotton sticks. "I know you hate to talk about it, but these are for your ... monthly."

"Shhh," Jane tried.

"No, listen, Jane. This is important. Keep these clean and keep your body clean. The risk of infection is high."

Jane snatched it and tossed it on her bed. "I got it. I know how it works, Maura."

Maura smiled that Jane was courageous in so many respects and plainly childish in others.

Maura pulled the last object from inside a bundle of cloth and held it wordlessly for Jane to see.

Jane was too embarrassed to say anything. She blushed furiously and looked away from it.

Finally Maura was moved to say, "I think this is best. You've always been boyish and I believe you will pass as a man, but honestly, darling, someone is eventually going to check you out. And you're going to need to have something for them to look at or you'll risk discovery."

"So I'll stuff a sock down there, Maura. I don't need ... that." Her tone was bewildered and Maura approached her slowly.

"I don't think that will be good enough, Jane. But with this, you don't have to worry. I've made little ties to go around your hips and thighs. So it will hang and move very naturally with your clothes. And although I've seen you pee standing up, I do think someone will find the absence of a ... penis ... pretty telling, eventually."

Jane set her jaw resolutely.

"Maura, I'm fine with cutting my hair. I'm fine with these boring mens clothes. I'm fine with altering my voice, my walk, my laugh. But I'm not fine ... with that."

Maura saw she would have to try a more persuasive method. She sat on her knees carefully and motioned for Jane to come to her. Maura pulled the leggings she was wearing down to her knees. Jane squirmed uncomfortably while Maura tied the light cotton ties around her. Maura didn't hide the intense blush in her face and neck when she rose and pulled Jane's leggings back up over her hips. She stood behind Jane in the mirror.

"I know you feel wierd. I would, too. But can you see what I mean now?"

She did. Just the moment before she looked like a pretty young woman with a boys haircut and her breasts bound. Now she looked like a dangerously sexy young man. And Maura stood gawking at her with her breasts rising and falling with increasing speed.

"Why does it turn you on?" She asked Maura quietly.

Maura gazed into her eyes in the mirror. "Because it's new and exciting. Because, in some terribly sinful way, it's everything I wish my husband was. But mostly because it's you. We're alone and I just pulled your pants down and that's really all it takes to get me there," she smiled, "I've always loved dressing you, that's not a secret."

"Do you wish I was a man?" Jane asked her with an uneasy tone.

Maura wrapped her arms tightly around Jane. "God, no. I promise. There has never been a second when I wished that. Honestly, I've wished a few men were you."

Jane smiled at that.

"I like being a woman," she said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't change that. I dress like a man because it's comfortable, and I work a lot so it's convenient. But I don't ... I don't wish I was a man or that I had a man's body."

"I know, Jane. I don't wish that, either. I think you look really sexy, but if the war ended this moment, I'd strip this silly disguise off you and never think of it again."

Jane loved that Maura had the ability to make her blush.

Patty tapped on the bedroom door and they stood back awkwardly from each other.

He opened the door, but he looked past them, around the room and through it, as if he searched for the phantasm of a person he used to know residing there.

"Come down for breakfast, girls."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, Jane?" he asked.

"Yessir?"

"You look nice."

He closed the door.

"Do you really think I can pull this off?" Jane asked her, for the first time allowing her doubts and fears to pour out at Maura's feet. Maura gathered them in her arms like they were her own beautiful baby. She pulled them comfortingly close to her breast and kissed them.

"Of course you can. All you've got to do is hang on." And she gave her that smile only a lover can give their beloved.

* * *

"Children, I have something to tell you. And you must listen carefully because I need you to always remember what I have said."

The Rizzoli siblings sat together on the hearth for the last time. Maura stood beside Angela and Patrick paced the room as if he was chasing some dark spirit from it.

"I have made each of you a packet of papers. You mother is going to pin them in your jackets. You must never, never lose them. Lose your gun before you lose these papers. They prove your legal citizenship, as Georgians and as Italians."

They glanced at their mother and she smiled encouragingly.

"Whenever anyone asks any of you if you are Native, you must tell them no. You must tell them immediately and confidently, you are Italians of legal Georgian birth. Do not ever admit to anyone that you have a Cherokee mother."

They glanced at her, growing anxious, and she kept up the reassuring pressure of her confident smile.

"When you board the train, they'll ask for your Conscription papers and you must show these as well. No one will ever ask if you are legal, they will ask if you are Native, or even African. Tell them confidently, no, and show them your papers. Do not ever let anyone take these papers away, and if you lose them you must write me instantly and I will send another copy. I need you to promise me that you will do as I have asked."

He had never spoken to them so much in their lives. He was a man of incredible action but limited explanation. They had grown to love that quality. Now they saw the lawyer in him for the first time.

"Promise me, Jude Thomas," he said gravely.

Tommy glanced at his mother and she nodded. "I promise, sir."

"Promise me, James Frances," he continued.

Frankie glanced at his mother. Her eyes were the entire definition of confidence.

"I promise, Patrick," he said solemnly.

"Jane Angelina, you most of all, must promise."

She glanced at her mother. And for the first time her expression wavered. Because she knew Jane remembered the truth.

"Why, Patty?" Jane asked meekly.

He looked at Birdie and she stared back at him. He seemed to ask a question and she seemed to allow it.

"Your mother has sacrificed greatly so that you children would never suffer as she and her family did. She has tried all your lives to spare you the knowledge of what she and her people went through. Because she wanted to free you from the tethers they were bound by. And these papers represent her, and my, struggle to achieve that. You are Georgians, children. You are Italians. You are the legally claimed children of the Rizzoli name."

"Who was our Pa, then?" Tommy asked her.

She glanced at Patty, and he began to pace again.

"Your Pa was ... he was a land owner ... and he was a deacon ... and he died. So I brought you children and your mother here to live. And my life, and the lives of my children, have been richer every day since you all came to be with us."

Tommy spoke to his mother sincerely, "He was a loser, huh, Ma?"

She looked down at her serenely folded hands. "He was my master. When I was enslaved."

Their collective gasp was audible.

"Ma, you ... ?" was all Frankie could ask.

She looked at Patrick and he smiled sadly at her.

"In 1839 the government of Georgia with the aid of the Federal government deported my tribe. We were the last tribe to be taken, and they had already started calling our exodus "the Trail of Tears". So many were dying on the journey. And my parents were very afraid for mine and my sisters safety. They had heard that ... well, that the soldiers were harassing the young girls. And they were desperate for a way to leave us behind. But they weren't allowed. The government wouldn't let any Cherokee stay behind."

"But there was a loophole," Patrick added grimly.

"A deacon named Brutus Rizzoli came to my parents and offered them money for my sister and I. He said if we became indentured servants, we could stay behind and he would release us in a few years, when we had earned our freedom and were old enough to wed."

Their stomachs all tightened at the story though they dared not wonder where it was heading.

"So that's what they did. And you all were born when I lived there. And Mr. Rizzoli adopted you all which is why you're legal citizens. Then he perished and Patrick brought us here."

"What is your real name, Ma?" Frankie asked her quietly.

Patrick had turned his back to them, and he said over his shoulder, "Birdie. They always called her Birdie because her singing made everyone so happy."

Jane asked her, "Are you still ... enslaved, Ma?"

Patrick turned sharply to them, "Absolutely not. Your mother earned her freedom honorably. And I have paid her for all her hard work here, raising Maura, Darcy and Fiona and keeping our houses. She is a respectable, hard working, entirely civilized ... and ... and ..." he stammered. They had never seen him thrown off kilter in any way before. He sighed resignedly before continuing, "and she's a damn fine human being. The finest I've-" his eyes seemed to look through them, for that old fleeting phantasm.

"It's okay, Patty," Birdie assured him quietly.

"She's the finest human being I've ever known. Children, we have always tried to spare you from how the outside world views race. We have always given you the best opportunities we could for each of you. We have always labored to draw no comparison or difference between you. Why, look at your mothers hair and look at mine. She has black and I have red, but are we different types of people than each other?"

They shook their heads in unison.

"Do we love you any differently?"

They shook their heads in earnest.

"That's because all people, of all colors and all mixtures, are the same. Your mother and I learned that a very long time ago. But this war is going to try to draw definite lines between people. And I won't have you caught up in the same hideous bigotry we have labored to liberate you from. So do not fight any brave fights, do not try to stand up for your Native blood. Please do not ever throw away what we have sacrificed to give you."

He looked at her, finally satisfied that he had spoken his peace. She looked back at him, her confident smile once again firmly on her face.

"But Ma, how can we go fight for the same government that deported your family?"

Patrick had told them what a father needs his children to know. Birdie leaned down to her knees, like she used to talk to them when they were children, and told them what a mother needs her children to know.

"Children, after I had survived the worst time in my life and the hardest, I looked back and wondered how I survived it. And I realized that I had gained you children, and dear Julian. And I knew then that while what I had gone through was senseless, it gave me you. We never know what in life could take us where we need to be or give us what we need to have. So while you are in this war, do not ever think of it as having enslaved you, just think of it as your chore. And when your chores are done, your family will be here waiting, proud and loving. Do not try to find sense in the world, my children, only in your own heart."

* * *

They waited in line for an hour before finally approaching the fierce little man at the table beside the train.

"PAPERS?!"

Jane handed him their conscription and citizenship papers.

"What the hell are these?" he demanded.

She glanced at her brothers nervously.

"Nothin, just our papers," she demurred.

He eyed them suspiciously. "Ya'll Natives?"

She shook her head easily. "Nah, Italians."

He eyed their faces. "You look dark."

"I told you, we're Italians. We're here to fight for Atlanta, you want us or not?"

He tossed the papers back to them, satisfied.

"Don't piss your britches, baby. Get on the train, all of you."

He waved them away and they boarded the train a little shaken. Although Patrick had warned them, they had never been singled out due to their race before and it put a sickening discomfort in their stomachs.

"When will we get off the train?" Tommy asked. He was only seventeen and he had never been on a train before.

"We won't get to Virginia for a few days, but they'll stop it so we can take a leak, baby brother," Jane kidded him.

He smiled at her. "You look good ... Julian."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't start," she warned them.

"No, really," Frankie said, "You look handsome."

"You think I can pull this off?" she asked them after a pause.

"Of course," Frankie told her easily. "You're either the bravest or the craziest person I've ever known. Either way, you'll pull it off."


End file.
